


I sing to the night (let me sing to you)

by latenightwhispers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Famous Zayn, Fluff, Implied Age Difference, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightwhispers/pseuds/latenightwhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are in my car, and I have no clue who you are. So I repeat who are you?"<br/>“Still rude.”<br/>"The person turns to face Zayn and he can fully see him now. He can see his brown curls parted around the space of his face. The boy has pale skin with emerald eyes twinkling in humor. His lips are pulled upward, chapped and pink, into a smile. It changes slowly into a smirk, dimples deep within each cheek. He looks amused by Zayn’s tone and frustration. And Zayn is having slight trouble not smiling back but he remembers his annoyance and it all comes back to him."</p><p>(Or Zayn is a famous singer and Harry showed up out of nowhere and he won't leave him alone. Not that Zayn really minds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I sing to the night (let me sing to you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisonegoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisonegoes/gifts).



> Thanks to my beta, (loudippedincaramel.tumblr.com) for having the patience of a saint with me and being absolutely amazing! And thanks to thisonegoes for the prompt, hopefully I didn't disappoint.
> 
> Additional Note: For trigger reasons, I tagged implied age difference. To clarify, Harry is the legal age, so 18 years old and Zayn is around his early 20s, so around 22-23. I didn't state their ages but there is a section of story where Zayn refers to Harry as being younger than him. Hopefully that is not too much of an age difference. I didn't explicitly state their ages so I wanted to clarify my implied age difference tag. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The title is from ToveLo's Not on Drugs. This is a complete work of fiction, so unfortunately we do not have R&B Zayn (*sobs for a million years*)

Zayn is high.

Not a nature induced high with green leaves crumpled and rolled in a thin white sheet that incenses through the air and alter his state of mind. Not a chemical induced high, mixes of chemicals creating a constant chemical reaction, reaching closer and closer to the sky in the matter of seconds, crashing down into the ground just as quickly. 

Zayn is experiencing rare forms of euphonic only few know well. His blood is laced with adrenaline running from his brain to his heart and pumping out throughout his body. He can feel everything, from the vibration the drum stick makes as it hits the drums and bounces off the drum to be amplified through the walls of the concert hall. He can feel each key of keyboard as it presses onto and the sound that comes off the board. He can feel each instrument play as if each note is attached to his spine, vibrating within his bones, letting the music take and control his body. He can hear a mess of sounds, the audience’s voices yelling louder and louder over each other, their yells fusing into unison. 

He can hear his own voice as each note comes out his body, poured into the microphone, amplified by the speakers surrounding the concert hall. He can see the faces as far as the light touches them. The hues of the lights, purple and red, all reflect onto the crowd. He can see them mouthing out his lyrics back to him. He can see them giving their whole soul, belting out words from the top of their lungs. It overwhelms him, the sounds of the instruments blending together to create song after song, the audience singing and hollering each word back to him, the crowds lifted off the walls and into his ear, his own voice pouring every single note into the microphone and blaring out the speakers. 

He feels weightless, as if he was floating on a cloud that is carrying him through the day with ease. But he feels grounded as well, rooted to the ground; the music cementing his soul to the floor.  
But all too soon, it’s over. The lights are lifted, the instruments let out their last note in one singular bang. He lets out his final note, holding as high as he can. Let the speakers intensify his voice, his vocals on their last strand. He puts every last bit of energy into the last note, his voice reaching the clouds and slowly coming down to earth. 

He looks out to the audience, the screams all blend into one massive roar. He can barely hear the sounds they are making, his earpiece blocking out the noise. He can make out what they are saying though, he can see from the body language that they are pleading with him to stay for just a bit longer. He feels the same; it’s the worst part of performing. When the lights let up, when the music stops and it’s just crowd of people with voices lost but pleading eyes for more. And he wants to give them more, he wants to give them all of him, to never let the night end. But he is only allowed two hours of screams and high notes and riffs with them. Then it’s a restless night and not to fall asleep until four AM, only to wake up to two hours later in a new city with forgettable names but unforgettable faces. 

As the lights dim down, his shadow is the only thing reflecting for the audience to see. He disappears to the right exit of the stage, only to be bombarded by a flock of people. They come all at once, reaching for a piece of him, screaming his name and desperate for his attention. He can barely breathe as two heavily muscled men come to his aid. 

~*~

They are protecting him from the swarm of people trying to attack him, trying to get a glimpse of connection with him. He feels overwhelmed by the screams all over again but this time they do not excite him. They terrify him because there are groups of girls attacking each other in order to push close to him. The closer he gets to the doors, the sounds become more intense, the hands are more visible, pieces of him being thrown around on the floor. 

He sees a little girl, who looks to be swallowed by the crowd. He zones in on the little girl and sees the sea of tears streaming down her face. He tries to stop the people around him, to reach his arms out to save the little girl. But his arms are out of reach and he is being thrust by his security guards in a van. The van has tinted windows, he can see them but they cannot see him. There are people surrounding the van, blocking the way to street, making his less than sweet escape to his hotel room seem infinite. 

~*~

He can make out few figures inside the car with him. In the front driver sit is man with a tight black shirt, short-trimmed black hair. He can see the bits of ink coming out of his shoulder through the shirt. He has his head faced forward while his hand is out stretched making gestures to the man on his left. Zayn can barely make out the man in the passenger seat. He sees his side profile, a balding spot on top of his head. He has glasses with hugged by thick black rims. He remembers their faces from early in the day, when they drove him to the venue but there were few words exchanged between them.  
He closes his eyes, to get a moment to drown out the screams, to calm down restless mind. He gets a moment of silence and then he hears a ding next to him. He opens eyes right away and he sits up a bit straighter. He hears another ding and he looks to his left.  
On his left, under the car light, is a figure slightly hunched over, invested in a phone lighting on his face. He notices a mess of curls, flowing against the side of the person’s face. He can make out bits of random ink slipping across the upper arm. 

“It’s rude to stare you know,” a voice says next to Zayn, breaking him out of a trace.  
“Who are you?” Zayn said in reply.  
“That’s a bit rude as well, ever hear of hello?” the person turns to face Zayn.  
Zayn is taken back by the person whose face remains concealed by long strands of brown curls. The person is primarily focused in his phone, the bright light reflects off their face, but he refuses to turn and face Zayn.  
"You are in my car, and I have no clue who you are. So I repeat who are you?"  
“Still rude.”

The person turns to face Zayn and he can fully see him now. He can see his brown curls parted around the space of his face. The boy has pale skin with emerald eyes twinkling in humor. His lips are pulled upward, chapped and pink, into a smile. It changes slowly into a smirk, dimples deep within each cheek. He looks amused by Zayn’s tone and frustration. And Zayn is having slight trouble not smiling back but he remembers his annoyance and it all comes back to him.

“To be quite fair, I believe you should introduce yourself first since you got in the car after me and you took your sweet time to notice I was here.”  
“Are you joking? This is my car!”  
“Well, how am I supposed to know that? You won’t even tell me you name.”

Zayn is taken back because he hasn’t had to properly introduce himself in ages. In the past year his face has been across billboards and adverts and magazines all over the United Kingdom. He can barely say a word before people are spurring back facts and details about him, to the point that it is slightly scary. He hasn’t talked to a person in ages that has no clue who he is at all. It’s refreshing because he wonders what it is like to be unknown again. To have to prove yourself to others all over again that you have a name worth remembering. 

“My name’s Zayn. Zayn Malik.” Zayn reaches out to stretches his hand towards the boy in question.  
“Name’s Harry, already knew your name.” Harry reaches to across the backseat to hold Zayn’s in handshake.  
It's Zayn's turn to smirk because he should have figured Harry was playing with him. Harry, in turn, smirk remains on his face as he shakes Zayn's hand. But only briefly. 

Once their hand were placed in each other’s, Zayn looked up to look fully take Harry in. A sheer sweater barely hiding a bit of Harry’s chest, birds tattoos peaking underneath his collarbones. His large hand encompass Zayn’s, a small impression of rings put on Zayn’s hands. Harry’s hands feel heavy on attached to Zayn, the warmth of his hands makes Zayn feel slightly dazed. He looks up to stare at Harry’s face; his eyes visible under the light of the car. His emerald eyes with bits of blue stare back at Zayn. The smirk falls off Harry’s face in place of an unreadable expression. His eyes are intensified as if Zayn is a test subject, complex and intriguing. Their hands are at a standstill, feeling heavier as time moves slowly by the second. They just stare in silence, answer questions and looking for answers through facial expressions. They are unaware of the noise around them, the voices of the people in the front talking loudly around each other. The sound of music playing lowly in the van goes unnoticed. 

"Boys, I see you have met each other," a rough voice, thick with a northern accent makes the boys break out of their trace immediately. The boys drop their hands the instant they hear turn to face a man with a puzzled expression and eyebrows raised in question. 

The heat of embarrassment flushes to Zayn face as his bodyguard, Sean, continues to stare between the boys. As if he is trying to form the possible meaning of their interactions, of a lonely graze and joint hands, in his head. To make sense of what happened in the minutes he was gone. 

"Well Zayn, it's nice to know you have already met Harry. My nephew." He emphasizes on the nephew as if the impact of the family relation should force physical distance between Zayn and Harry. 

Zayn looks to Harry and sees the face of sheer embarrassment like when a parent goes out of their way to make a fool of themselves to prove a point. Harry palms his face as Sean calls the driver to move not taking his eyes off the boys. 

The weight of the world comes back to Zayn as if he had fallen asleep in a daze, only to be awakened on the harshness of the cold ground. 

~*~

The screams from the crowd surrounding the car came back to his ears in vengeance. The voices seem to have grown in volume as the vehicle moves out onto the main round towards the hotel. Zayn notices Harry shift back to focus on his phone. This time, placing his earphones to drown out the people surrounding him. 

Zayn wonders if he is trying to drown out the sound of the embarrassment of getting caught in a handshake. It was an innocent gesture made by people all the time so it could not be the handshake. Maybe it was the staring, as they both try to figure each other out without words. To understand the meaning behind each other's facial expression, to understand someone new beyond just the physical makeup. But that could not be it as well because people do that all time, trying to understand someone they just met, to understand who they are before the words fog up what is true and what are lies. 

It was the questioning glare on Sean's face that still remains through the mirror aligned on the window. Zayn did not take in what Harry's face must have looked like, too busy trying to flush out the heat spreading across his cheeks. He wonders if he was just as embarrassed, with the face of a scowling child trying to find ways to let the earth swallow them whole. 

Zayn wonders if he should try to grasp Harry's attention, to start the conversation again, but using words this time not just looking for answers in each other's eyes. He wants to reach out to him but he looks up to see Sean still staring at the backseat of the car, as if to dare Zayn to make a move on his watch. Zayn knows better than to push his luck, so he turns to look at the window. 

He takes in the quiet of the night in city he already has forgotten the name to. He looks at the few cars remaining on the streets beside them; the neon lights illuminated the dark streets. He realizes this all he gets to take in of the city. He barely had a moment to see what the city had to offer. With rushed interviews in accents less thick and more brass than his own, rehearsals quickly following that. Trying to get in tune with the theater, imagining how it would be with more than just the sound of his vocals and the band. He got minutes of sleep in between, so no time to really take the city in. Bits of food dripping with grease because it's quick and he's far too hungry to be concerned about his health at this point. No time to sit in a local restaurant and meet the people, to understand the how the people personalities reflect the city. 

All he gets is this, a short ride from the theater to the hotel, seeing only neon lights brighten the night sky, just like every other city he has been to, making the city forgettable. The only things that he remembers are the screams of the audience and the scared little girl in the center of the crowd.  
~*~ They arrive at the hotel all too soon. The van is parked around the back of the hotel, to avoid Zayn being seen as he rushes up the stairs and hopes for sleep to come. He hardly enters buildings from the main entrances, all sneaking through the backdoors or huddled by a team of muscled men paid to protect each bit of Zayn's million dollar hair. 

He thought it was cool, at first, being the child at heart that he is. He felt like a spy or superhero sneaking through buildings to avoid his cover being blown and his identity being revealed. It grew out of being cool to be routine quite quickly. He becomes more familiar with back stairways than the welcoming of grand lobbies. He knows the routine by now, he has to wait in the vehicle for the all clear after everyone else has exited first. It's an annoying process, mostly because he just wants to sleep and not be bothered for a century, but he has to do it every time. 

He removes his face off the window to turn and look at Harry. Harry seems to be not fazed by what he happening around him, still zoned in on his phone, with his earphones in as if the time hasn’t shifted at all. He wonders if Harry is even aware that they had to stop, since he has remained in his exact same position as before. 

"You're staring again." Harry's deep voice brings Zayn back to focus.  
"Staring got me a name last time; maybe it can get me a number?" Zayn replies back. He can barely believe the words as they come out of his mouth. 

Harry burst out laughing in response and Zayn smiles to himself as if he just won the lottery.  
"Did the Zayn Malik just try a line on me? I feel faint." Harry says as his face turns to Zayn. He has the cheeky expression on his face again and his eyes light with humor. He makes an over dramatic gesture with his hand over his forehead and his eyes close for a moment. Harry brings his arm down and turns to smile at Zayn, all cheek and dimples. 

They go back to it, to staring, to looking at each other like they would rather not talk. Because words become a hassle and Zayn tends to live in moments at a time. And words take up too much space, and lingering gazes give more about a person than words could ever give.  
All too soon, they are knocked out of their trances. A knock on the window for the all clear is made, and the boys exited the back. Zayn steps out first and Harry falls behind quite literally. He nearly slips out of the vehicle and falls to the ground. Zayn turns just in time to catching him before he falls down completely. 

"My prince charming."  
"Yeah, okay princess, we still have a few flight of stairs to climb up, can you make it that far?"  
"I don't know, I think you might have to carry me. I'm already falling for you."  
"Will you two stop already?"

They both stop looking at each other; Zayn almost drops Harry to stand at full attention of Sean. Almost until one of Harry's limbs comes flying out in front of Zayn's face and Zayn catches it before Harry can fall down. Sean has a tired, annoyed expression emphasized by his arms crossed in front of his face and the yawn that escaped his mouth.  
He does not even bother with talking to them anymore, just turns to walk away and gestures them to follow. 

~*~

They climb the stairs to make it the first floor, where the all clear as been made. Zayn and Harry go up the elevator first, sneaking around the guards, who are too busy talking among each other to be bothered by the boys. Once in the elevator, they become silent. They stand right next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, but say nothing.  
The banter is gone between them and filled with silence. The ride to the highest floor takes only minutes to get to but feels like ages. This doesn’t happen to Zayn, not anymore. He doesn't feel awkward around people he just met, not very trusting, but hardly ever awkward. He is used to hookups where very few words are exchanged, and body language is the only communication. He is used to not having to try, his looks and his names tend to bring people to him and he just selects who he wants for the night. And then regrets in the morning because his name mixed in with bits of truth and a lots of lies are slandered across The Sun and every blog site known to man. 

He is used to lonely nights with a bed too big and room too small. All his thoughts crowding and filling up his room, driving him insane. He is used to that. He is used it being easy and hard all at once. Finding someone to stay the night but never trusting them to stay for the day. 

He is not used to this, not used to just flirty banter. More than just banter between friends, but not comfortable enough to be banter between lovers. He is not used to the in between, the middle ground of something meaning more than it should. He is not used to silence between two people, only knows his own silence, his own thoughts. He doesn't have to worry about what’s next because there is a schedule, a routine to what happens next. He doesn’t have to worry. Now, he is worrying because they haven’t even kissed yet. Barely touched even and he is feeling like a love struck teenager. 

He grew out of that phase a long time ago, when he would give his whole heart to people that only want him physically but never more than that. He knows better than to get hung up on a boy he just met. But he has his weaknesses, just like everyone else. Maybe it’s because he is still buzzed off the show and blinded by the haze of adrenaline to think right. Or maybe it's because he hasn't had proper sleep in ages and doesn't want to go to bed alone tonight. Or maybe it's because the boy next to him looks too pure to ruin but doesn't seem to give a fuck about Zayn or who he is. Maybe he just needs to know what those pretty pink lips taste like. He doesn't know but he can't talk, too busy over thinking about what will happen. Too caught up in what is and what will be, not right now. 

"Stop thinking" Zayn thinks his mind is playing tricks on him, But that voice doesn't sound like the one driving him mad, doesn't sound like the one talking a million miles a minute.  
"Zayn" He looks up to his left. Harry is just looking at him, simply just that. 

Not with a look of amusement like earlier or even sign of concern. He is just looking at him. Zayn is so caught on in his stare, he doesn't notice Harry's slipping one of his fingers into Zayn's. He intertwines just his pinkie around Zayn's. He breaks their gaze and stares wordlessly back at the elevator doors. 

Oddly, it calms Zayn. The simple touch of Harry's finger intertwined with his. It brings him out of his head and he stares at the glowing numbers on the elevator. Each taking seconds or minutes in between to glow to the higher number. And Zayn just wants to get off this elevator and take Harry with him. He wants to know what those pink lips taste like against his own, wants to feel Harry's body so close that they are sharing the same warmth. 

On impulse, he lets go of Harry's finger and turns himself around to face Harry.  
Zayn grabs Harry by the waist and turns him to face him.  
"I'm gonna ask you this once and I need a clear answer. Can I kiss you?" Zayn asked hesitantly. He is hoping he read the signs right and that Harry wants him just as much as Zayn wants Harry.  
Harry does not even give it a moment’s thought, "Yes."

Zayn breathes a sign of relief and reaches for Harry's neck to pull him closer to Zayn's lips. Their lips brush against each other with curiosity. Trying to understand each other with just their lips as their guide. Harry reaches a hand up into Zayn's hair, pulling on it gently. He decides to test the limits even further, letting his tongue escape his mouth and brush against Zayn's, a silent plea for entry. Zayn grants him access as he opens his mouth to let Harry's tongue inside. Once Harry's tongue slides against Zayn's, the tension between them releases, replaced by the raw crave of more. Zayn brings his hands down from Harry's neck along his spine. He places them on Harry's hips, daringly reaching his hands down to squeeze his ass. He is rewarded with a whine from Harry's mouth into his. Harry places both hands in Zayn's hair and pulls, hard. Zayn whines back into Harry's mouth. He can feel Harry's tongue slide out for a moment to smirk against Zayn's lips. Zayn squeezes Harry's ass harder this time, as way of revenge for Harry being smug, and feels Harry moan this time against his lips. 

They don't notice the elevator ding and the doors open until they hear a loud sound of someone clearing his throat . They both turn, with a look of pure annoyance to the source of the sound.  
They immediately drop their hands off each other and jump a few inches away from each other. Sean is on the other side of the elevator, with his arms crossed and look of irritation spread across his face. 

"Before you even ask, how I got here before you two is not the main issue. The main issue is why you both though it was good idea to be kissing and god knows what else in an elevator with cameras all over it? Do you understand what could happen?"  
"No I---"  
Sean raises his hand to stop any further explanation from either of them.  
"We can talk about this later, when we all have had some sleep."

Sean hands Zayn his room key and directs him to his room and pulls Harry by the arm away from Zayn. Harry turns his head around, before entering the shared room with his uncle, to blow a kiss at Zayn and winks. Zayn just laughs in response and walks to his room, drowning in his thoughts. 

 

~*~  
Harry becomes a constant in Zayn's life. As they tour around the United Kingdom, performing in everything from private venues to music festivals, Harry is always around. He is there between interviews and repetitive questions, sneaking kisses in between or squeezing Zayn's hand or just asking if Zayn is alright. He is there among the crowd, always in Zayn's line of vision. Dancing off beat to songs he has heard too many times to count. He is there backstage, for when Zayn's adrenaline is running far too high and he needs to calm down. He holds on to Harry, harsh kisses with lips turning red, with bites and hair disarray from being pull on too much. Zayn becomes dependant on Harry, needing him to be present at all times. Especially on nights he can't bothered sleep alone, so Harry will sneak in when his uncle is dead to the world. He climbs into Zayn's bed, lacing his fingers with Zayn's, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Zayn swears though, that the universe is out to cockblock him and Harry. When their kisses become far too heated to be consider innocent, someone opens the door on them. They can barely get a hand below the belt before someone pops out of nowhere to break them apart. He is pretty sure that it's Sean sending out everyone to watch out for them, because he always seems to have a smug look on his face when they walk out of a room with an annoyed expression. He knows for sure that Sean was behind everyone cockblock him and Harry. 

~*~

When they were in a city in Northern Ireland, Zayn was vaguely remember the names of the city. He was far too caught up in the crowd to bother to remember the name. It was one of his last nights performing in the UK before heading to America, where the crowds are larger and shameless and the days ran longer, heat rolling throughout the night .  
Harry and Zayn had managed to sneak away from the crew and back onto Zayn's tour bus. Zayn had excess energy running throughout his body and needed Harry near him. Harry’s long hair wasn’t hidden under a hat like or tied up in bun as usually. 

He was wearing a plain white tee and skinny jeans but it was driving Zayn mad. Maybe because it was the way the jeans were practically painted onto his legs, nothing left to the imagination at all. Or maybe it was the way Harry had bent over in front of Zayn. Constantly dropping everything all day so Zayn could see how good, how tight and firm, Harry's ass looked in those jeans. And damn it was good. He knows that Harry was doing it on purpose; because, he may be clumsy but he always looked at Zayn after he picked up the item, throwing a cheeky wink and walking off with a dimpled smirk. .

Whatever it was, he was frantically looking for Harry among the crew, searching for weird camel colored boots attached to literal human giraffe. Harry ends up finding him instead, pulling on his hand to the nearest wall and just kisses him.

"Harry we should---we should---Harry" Zayn tries to break the kiss, to bring Harry's attention to his words.  
"Harry listen---Harry!"  
"What? We are kissing, let’s enjoy that before someone comes." Harry pouts.  
"I know, but everyone is distracted. I know where we can go"  
"Where?" Harry looks at Zayn, wonder in his eyes.  
Zayn just winks at Harry in response and grabs his hand, pulling and making Harry follow me.

~*~

The tour bus area is mostly abandoned, a few random people lingering around; most of the people are lost in the huge crowds in the festival. Zayn looks for his bus, pulling Harry close behind him. Once he finds the bus, he opens it to find it empty, just a mess of food wrappers lingering on the floor. 

He guides Harry to the back of the bus, where there is a full King sized bed encompassing the whole room. Zayn moves to sit on the bed first, pulling Harry’s hand to bring him down, straddling Zayn’s legs. They waste no time before their lips and hands are all over each other. Harry bites on Zayn's bottom lip before sucking on it as Zayn's hands wander down to his ass. Zayn squeezes Harry’s ass and slaps it hard enough to make Harry release his lip and throw his head back, whining. Zayn starts to kiss down Harry's neck, dragging his lips along his throat lips. Zayn starts kissing further down, bringing his hands to the hem of Harry's shirt and pulling it up his body. He slowly rolls Harry's shirt over his torso, pulls back from Harry's neck causing Harry to whine at the loss of contact, and brings it over Harry's head. As soon as the shirt is thrown on the floor, Harry moves with frantic hands, reaching for the hem of Zayn's shirt to pull over his head. Zayn shoos Harry's hands away from his body, pulling his shirt off his body with ease, thrown carelessly on the floor. Once they are both shirtless, Harry pushes Zayn back on the bed, forcing the breath out of him. Harry bends down to lick Zayn's neck, the tip of his tongue tracing the vein along the throat. He moved ever so slowly, driving Zayn mad. 

"Harry, please" Zayn cries out, his breaths coming out short.  
"What?" Harry asks, his lips pressed against Zayn’s throat, imprinting the shape of his smirk into his skin.  
"Do something" Zayn begs, moving his hips up to get some friction.  
"What? What do you want?" Harry whispers along his skin.  
"Anything."  
"Anything?" Harry says questioningly. 

Zayn feels regret as he hears Harry repeat his plea back to him. But he needs something, and needs it immediately. They are running on limited time, someone is bound to notice their escape and come with a search party to find them. He needs some friction, he needs Harry to move, he needs to let go of this energy. 

Harry finally moves, teasing Zayn slowly with his mouth, kissing along his collarbone. Harry stretches his arms to interlace his fingers with Zayn’s. It's habitual, interlacing their fingers, no matter what they do. It grounds Zayn and calms Harry during the chaos of touring. Harry moves his lips across Zayn's collarbones, lips floating across the ink pressed onto Zayn's skin. He moves further down, towards the red lips tatted directly under Zayn's sternum. He presses his lips down to kiss the lips on Zayn's chest, slowly breaking Zayn's calm as he lets a whine barely above a whisper. But Harry hears it, hears Zayn's resolve breaking, not that he had much to begin with. Harry moves his lips across to one of Zayn's nipples. He swirls his tongue slowly around it, lapping his tongue around the nipple before sucking on it. He grazed his nipple between his teeth before releasing it. 

"Fuck, Harry." Zayn pants out, grabbing onto the bedcover, knuckles turning pale white.  
Harry doesn't respond, just moves onto the other nipple, tracing the skin around the nipple with just the tip of his tongue before biting down hard.

"Fucking shit---I--just don't---" Zayn says between short, harsh breaths, his fingers grabbing the duvet ever harder.  
Harry looks up and smirks at Zayn. Zayn's face is dripping in sweat, his long black hair falling down, stuck to his face.  
"Don't what?" Harry replies smug. 

He loves this, how he can make Zayn lose all of his control with just his mouth. How he can make Zayn fall apart with just his tongue. He can break Zayn like no one else can. No one can make Zayn whine and beg so pretty like Harry can. Harry has all this power over Zayn, no one else, and he feels he has the right to be pretty damn smug.  
Zayn looks Harry, meeting his dark eyes with a cold glare, and says, "Don't fucking stop."

The commanding tone of his voice, wipes the smug look off Harry's face. He knows better than to test Zayn's patience any further after that. He knows that if he teases Zayn anymore, it would come with dire consequences. And he kind of loves that too, Zayn doesn't need his mouth to break Harry apart. He just has to look at him, just has to say a few words and Harry is whining and begging, skin flushed red, knuckles pale white, frantically moving for some type of touch. He craves Zayn's hands or his mouth on him. Zayn just has to talk and Harry is his. No one should that have that much power over someone else, but Zayn does over Harry. And Harry kind of really fucking loves it.  
Harry moves his tongue further down, running his tongue along Zayn's stomach lines, inching closer and closer towards Zayn's belt. He kisses each ab as he moves down his stomach but Zayn is rolling his hips upwards, wanting to release the tension building up in his groin. Harry, on the other hand, pauses. 

Harry raises his head slightly, hesitant to move forward because they hardly ever get this far. 

There is always an interruption, keeping Harry moving towards unfamiliar territory. Whenever he is with Zayn, he loses all sense of conscious movement, just relying on instinct. But when Zayn's hand dips further down, he always shies away from the touch for half a second. Zayn doesn’t noticed, too caught up in with heat exchanged between them. Too hung up on the taste of Harry's skin, trying to memorize every visible part of Harry's body, to notice how Harry lets go of his touch for less than a second. 

He notices now because Harry isn't teasing him. He isn't smiling against Zayn's skin, isn't taunting Zayn to make him beg for more. He is just staring down at Zayn's torso, completely zoned in on lines of his stomach. 

"Harry." Zayn doesn't say his name in question, his voice is gentle but it demands Harry's full attention. Harry slowly raises his head to look at Zayn. Zayn raises himself on his elbows to make direct eye contact with Harry.

"Come here." It comes out soft, gently guiding Harry to crawl up towards Zayn. He breaks eye contact with Zayn, just staring at the spilled ink across Zayn's body. He brings his head down bury intoZayn's neck, letting the feeling of shame wash over him. 

"Are you alright?" Harry can hear the concern laced in Zayn's voice. He can tell in the way Zayn brings his hand to slowly stroke through his hair as if to calm him down. Harry doesn't reply, just breathes into Zayn's neck, wishing to disappear.  
"Harry, you got to talk to me, babe. I need to know if you're alright." Zayn shifts his body to look at Harry, bringing Harry out to keep him from using his body to protect him from talking. Zayn reaches his hands out to lift Harry's head up and face him.  
"I'm fine." But Harry won't look at him, shift his eyes to the window behind Zayn, refusing to make eye contact.

"Then look at me. If you are fine babe, just look at me." Zayn brings his voice down; whispering as if he can't let the room hear his words for Harry. 

Zayn keeps one hand stroking Harry's hair and his other on his face. His touches still when Harry brings his eyes back to look at Zayn. His eyes are lighten and widen, the green in his eyes more potent. It makes Zayn more aware of just how young Harry is, just how much experience he does not have. 

He knows that Harry's from a small town that has green fields and narrow roads covering the whole town. Knows that he grew up around the same people, where new faces were far and few in between. He is also aware of how Harry carries himself. His charm makes him seems much older than he is, never nervous to talk to anyone. He carries himself filled with life, wise beyond his years. It's easy to forget how young he is, just how little he has experienced.

Zayn is aware though. There are moments when Harry has a childlike wonder look. Wide eyes when he sees the new cities, bigger and brighter than his hometown. Crowds of people, with accents rougher than his own, words come out quick and bundled, not slowed down to hear every syllable like his. Zayn can see it when Harry falls into the crowd, packed next to bodies, touching in ways that would be imitate in different situations. He can hear in his voice. In the minutes before sleep takes over, Zayn hears the way he talks with excitement high in his voice, as he tells pointless stories about something new he learned about or people he talked to for a few minutes. But Zayn still listens. Hangs on to every word he can before his eyes close. Zayn is aware how young Harry is at times. 

But not when they are together, not in their rushed moments with kisses press harsh against each other. Not when they are just craving each other hands, not when they need each other because it has been too many hours in between since they have been alone. 

Now they have time, because everyone is too busy enjoying the festival to wonder where they disappeared to. They have time for slow kisses and tender touches, they have time to explore just how each other's bodies work and they have time to understand what touches trigger different sounds. Harry has never been this far with a guy, never had time to understand someone else's body. He always lets Zayn take the lead because he knows more, knows just where to touch Harry to trigger the right sounds. He knows where to put his hands when they only have a quick break from the crew, to make Harry come undone. It took longer for Harry to do that for Zayn but he prides himself on every time he can crack Zayn, weaken him and make rely on Harry to bring him back. 

Harry knows he can break Zayn, he knows he can keep going and make Zayn come undone. But he doesn't know how. He moves down Zayn's body with confidence, knowing how to keep him whining and begging him to not stop. But when he got to Zayn's belt, could feel Zayn's bulge against his chest, he froze. 

A million thoughts ran threw his head in the matter of seconds. He couldn't think straight, couldn't on rely instinct. He feels so ashamed of himself because he should know how to do this. He should know how to touch another guy intimately without over thinking it, but he can't help it. He knows Zayn, in the few weeks they have spent together. Attaching themselves to each other, learning little secrets they whisper to each other in the night. He should know what to do. But it is so different when it's in the heat of the moment and time is slowed down. When it's with someone that he cares for, someone he wants to give his best to. So when Zayn's voice breaks him out of his thoughts, he feels the shame wash over him. Because he knows he can do this but he is scared it won’t be perfect, it won't be how he envisioned it. Mostly he is scared he will disappoint Zayn because he has no clue what to do. 

Zayn can tell Harry is afraid, can see it in his eyes. Can see how Harry is afraid about how Zayn will react, not letting his eyes stay on Zayn for more than a second before breaking away and trying to break contact. Zayn is holding his head in place, making it hard for him to move his head to look anywhere but at Zayn. He wants to ask what's wrong, what he can do to make it better. But that's the wrong question to ask and he knows Harry isn't going to answer. He knows that Harry is mad at himself and think Zayn is mad at him as well. He leans down to kiss Harry instead, just a soft kiss on his lips but he lets his lips linger. Tries to tell Harry that it's okay without talking. Harry won't believe him if he keeps saying it's okay because he is too much in his own head and needs actions to prove him wrong. 

Zayn uses the kiss to distract Harry and turn him flat on his back. Once Harry is on his back, Zayn runs his lips further down Harry. He leaves feather light kisses on every inch of Harry's body that he can reach. He brings his lips down from Harry's chin to his neck, leaving kisses on either side of Harry's neck. Harry remains unresponsive, looking at the roof of the bus instead of talking. Zayn keeps kissing down Harry's chest, trying to coax Harry out of his head and just let go. He knows he will get a response out of Harry eventually; he just has to be patient. He moves further down Harry's body, kisses on his nipples and flicking his tongue across the skin. 

"Ugh, fuck" Harry groans into the pillow next him, trying to contain the sounds from coming out of him. Zayn smirks in victory, knowing he could get a sound out of Harry. Harry always loses it when Zayn get anywhere near his nipples, always makes sounds far too loud to be discreet. Zayn gives Harry's other nipple the same attention, earning another muffled groan in return. Zayn leaves a few light kisses down the center of Harry's tatted butterfly, feeling the indents of his stomach muscles against his lips. 

Zayn lifts his upper body, bringing his hands from the Harry’s sides down to place his fingers on Harry's belt.  
"I'm gonna take this off. Is that alright babe?" Zayn waits until Harry raises his head before he moves any further. He doesn't want to go any further if it’s too much for Harry, doesn’t want him to close off anymore.  
"Yeah." Harry breathes out, letting his head rest back and closing his eyes as he hides his face in the pillow. His eyes are closed, hiding half into the pillow.  
"Are you sure?" Zayn repeats himself, barely even hearing him before. Harry lifts his head up completely, a look of frustration clear across his face. He looks directly at Zayn and says,  
"Yes, I'm sure. Just please do something."

Zayn takes that as permission to remove Harry's belt and throws it at random out of the way. He undones the button and zip on Harry's jeans, fighting with them to come off his hips and thighs, letting them fall to around his ankles. He pulls Harry down closer to the edge of the bed, letting his legs hang off the edge. He gets on his knees, placing his face right in front of Harry's bugle, covered by Harry's pants. He lets his tongue out to trace around the shape of Harry's dick, causing Harry to lift his hips up, silently pleading with Zayn for more. Zayn indulges him by bringing his hands up to pull down Harry's pants, bringing them down to fall on top of his pants. Just as his pants are down, he moves back to focus completely on Harry. He grabs a hold of Harry, wrapping his hand around the base of his dick. He kisses at the tip, the taste of him covering his lips. Just as he opens his mouth he hears, 

"You have got to be fucking kidding. Really, guys?" Zayn swears under his breath, letting go of Harry, knowing exactly just who that voice belongs to. Harry doesn't even bother to try to cover himself, far too frustrated to care about his appearance.  
"Happy to see you, too, Sean" Zayn says dryly as he looks up to see two furrowed brows and two eyes darting between Harry and Zayn.  
"We have looked all over this fucking festival for you two, and you guys disappear to do this? I have seen far more of my nephew then I have ever needed to." Sean says as he turns away, finding their shirts on the ground and throwing them behind him towards the boys.  
"Get out in two minutes or so help me God I will pull you both out by the dicks if I have to." Harry lets out a sound of frustration when his uncle says that.

"If you wanted me, you just have to ask. No need to be aggressive, I'm all yours Sean" Zayn says out loud as Sean exits the bus. Zayn laughs as he hears Sean turns to throw something in his direction.  
"Two minutes! Don't make me come back in here!" 

Harry lifts his body off the bed, only to fall down onto Zayn as he puts on his shirt.  
"It's amazing that you are able to walk all these years, with the fact that you have two left feet." Zayn laughs as he pulls Harry back up, keeping him from taking them both down.  
"I'm pretty capable of walking. And like you can talk, I've seen you try to dance, it's public hazard." Harry reaches down to pull his pants and jeans up to avoid Zayn's glare that he can feel burning into his back. Always so sensitive about his dancing. 

Once he got his jeans on, he looks up to see Zayn leaning against the door post of the room, arms crosses as he brings his eyes up to look at Harry, Harry's shirt in his hands. Harry reaches to grab it out of Zayn's hands, hastily putting it on.  
"Alright babes?" Zayn reaches out to pull Harry close him, until there is no distance between them. Harry just nods his head in response, leaning down a bit to give Zayn a quick kiss. 

He moves back to grab Zayn's hand and walk them out of the bus. Once they reach the doorsteps, Harry turns to kiss Zayn again, to reassure both of them that he is alright, that Zayn doesn't have to worry that he did anything wrong. Zayn pulls him closer, wanting to the kiss last longer because they will be too exhausted when they get back to the bus. He wants more time alone; even it's just doing nothing. He doesn't want to go out there. But he knows that there are people wanting to talk to him, to see him, and he owes them that much. He can't stay locked away with Harry forever. And Harry was too excited to be here, to see a bunch of bands, with strange names and even stranger clothing choices that he has been dying to see. Harry will never forgive him if he made Harry miss seeing them live. So he holds onto this kiss for a few more seconds, before opening the door back to reality. 

~*~

"Nice to see you finally joined us boys. Harry, go off with David okay? Zayn and I will catch up with you." Harry rolls his eyes, knowing just what Sean is going to tell Zayn.  
Harry squeezes Zayn's hand before he whisked away by a security guard whose expression is hidden behind his sunglasses. Sean turns to talk to Zayn, as soon as he can see that Harry is far enough to not hear them. Once the coast is clear he says, 

 

"Be careful with Harry alright? I know you guys fool around and are having fun, but be careful."  
"You wait until you see his dick exposed to give the 'be careful' speech?" Zayn raises an eyebrow at Sean as he interrupts, knowing just the amount of clichés that he is going to hear and has heard before. Sean just sighs and continues, hoping that Zayn will listen to him.

"He's not built like you; he doesn't know how to protect himself. He doesn't know how to handle people hating him, and he will try to fix it to the brink of madness. He is used to everyone falling in love with him, which is easy to do because he could probably charm the Devil himself. Just be careful with him, because I know how you get sometimes, when you close off from everyone for whatever reason and he hasn't seen that. He won't know how to react. Just don't hurt him, and I know you won't intentionally. I want him to go back home in one piece. My sister let him come with me as long as I promisied that I would keep him safe. Now I need you to promise me you will do the same. Give me that peace of mind." Sean looks, unsure and worrisome, a look Zayn has hardly ever seen on Sean's face. 

"I promise I won't hurt him, I care far too much about him to do that." Zayn says, trying to reassure the both of them because Harry is important to them. Harry constantly lifts the mood of everyone around him, always happy and excited about something. He makes Zayn smile a lot more than anyone else has in long time, besides his family. He would never forgive himself if he ever hurt Harry.

They both move to start walking towards Zayn's tent in the festival, where the rest of his team should be at, along with Harry.  
"Thank you. And tell Harry just to stay in your room. I know he sneaks out at night to go there." Zayn laughs. He told Harry he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was. As soon as Zayn can see Harry, he walks a bit faster, already needing to be close to him. But before he can get to far, Sean pulls him back a bit to whisper in his ear and say,  
"Oh and if the both of you can behave today, maybe I will consider not sending people to interrupt the both of you when you sneak off to 'have a moment'" Furious, Zayn turns to look back at Sean, but he has already let go of Zayn's arm, running away before Zayn can catch him.  
Zayn fucking knew it. 

~*~

It's only a few days before Zayn begins his tour in America, for the third time. He's nervous because this isn't just a club tour, trying to get his name out there, in country far too big with too many opinions and a heat that drives him mad. He's isn't a supporting act, only having thirty minutes to make the crowd remember his name. 

To remember the pretty boy with lethal cheekbones, to remember the boy would poured every bit of his soul through his voice. It's different this time because he has made a name for himself in America, has left a lasting impression that they demand more of him. And he is hyped on nervous, as they days get closer. The crowds in America are different. They are louder, shameless and hold no bounds. The country is different than England; it's bigger so opinions of him are spread wide. His voice, no doubt, is favorable among all. But he looks a little rougher than what some people want their kids to listen to. 

His appearance is always in question when touches down in America. The media surrounding him always pumps out the bad boy image. Pictures are always surfacing of him with girls who have slept with him, giving tell-alls to anyone who will listen. He is known as a play boy, even though he spends most of his free time sleeping on any surface he can find. He knows that they try to keep him up as mysterious, saying that will draw in more attention towards him, rise up sells in the states. It always backfires, because he is too quiet and the interviewers always try to get a rise out him, find his trigger points to make him exploded. It works, just not in their favor. He stays quiet not answering any questions just fixes a glare at the interviewer. When the interview is up, he is quick to leave, rushing to the nearest quiet space before he gets too heated. 

~*~

It's four am and Zayn is tired. Zayn is set to get on a twelve hour flight to Los Angeles to start promoting and rehearsing for the tour. He doesn't want to get up, not because he's nervous or worrying about everything that could possible fall apart. It's far too early for him to have all those thoughts racing through his head. The only conscious thoughts running threw his head are how soft the hotel bed feels. His body sinks slightly into the mattress but it still feels like floating on air. He can only think about how warm Harry's body feels pressed against his. How there is no distance between them, Harry's chest melded onto his back, his body curled into the shape of Zayn's. Harry's arm reaches across his body to lay his hand on top of Zayn's. The bed is far too big for the both of them but they remain in the middle, using each other's bodies for warmth. The blankets displaced all over the bed, just a sheet to cover them against the cool air of the room. 

Their peace is disturbed by a loud bang on the door, warning them to get up or they will miss the flight. But it's four am and Zayn is too tired to even try to get up. He doesn't want to leave this bed, doesn't want to sit for twelve hours straight in a plane and he doesn’t want to land just to be rushed to more interviews with the same questions. Interviews that get far too personal just to get him to react so they can have their ‘bad boy’ headline. He doesn't want that, he wants to stay asleep for a few more hours before he has to get on plane. Planes are far too small and he has heard far too many horror stories to sleep easy on a plane. He doesn't want to leave. But he needs to. He has to because there are people who have spent money to see him, waited ages to hear his voice live. He owes them that much. 

So he gets up, with Harry trying to pulling him back to bed.  
"Time to get up babe, we have to go." Zayn's voice is rough; words come out jumbled and accent thick with sleep. He reaches for the closest pair of sweatpants and a muscle tee. He's not even sure if they are his, because the sweats are more loose than normal and they have a Packers logo since Harry has the weirdest obsession with them. He knows they couldn't possibly be his but shrugs it off since it's too early in the morning to actually give a fuck. He throws the nearest sweater and sweats at Harry, who is still lying in bed with his stomach against the sheets. 

Zayn goes towards the bed to slap Harry on the ass, gentle at first and it does nothing but encourage Harry. He lifts his hips up a bit and pushes his ass back towards Zayn, as if to ask for another. Zayn grants him that much and slaps his ass, hard.  
"Zayn!" Harry yells, nearly jumping a foot up off the bed.  
Zayn just rolls his eyes at Harry, giving him a pointed looked.  
"Get your ass up, we have to go. And don’t make me leave you, all alone and cold in London." Zayn turns away to get their suitcases, already packed because Harry knew Zayn's version of packing involved him throwing random clothes in a pile and shoving them in a suitcase. So, Harry decided to pack for both of them because Zayn wasn't going to do it and they share the same wardrobe anyways. 

They finally emerge from the room to see Sean already waiting from them, the rest of crew waiting in the lobby.  
"You two barely made it in time, now let's go." Sean guides them to elevator where Zayn immediately rest his head on Harry's shoulder, sleeping all the way down to the lobby. 

~*~

The way to the airport and onto the plane is a blur to Zayn. He was barely awake enough to know where he was going, just going through the motions, not sure how he got onto the plane. When the plane begins to take off, Zayn can feel it. He wakes straight up, alert and aware of the movements of the plane. He holds painfully tight onto the armrest, his face stoic. He hates takeoff, hates the loud sounds accompanied with the loss of stability with the earth. Everything that could possible go wrong rushes through his head. He starts to panic, the air quickly escaping his lungs, his heart beats irregular He feels his hand lift off the armrest, encompassed instead by a large hand. He feels another hand turn his head towards a pair of lips that softly kiss him, lay onto his ever so gently. 

He can feel his mind calming down, can feel the breath enter back into his lungs. He can feel himself floating back down.  
"You alright?" Harry looks at Zayn, concern painted across his face.  
"I'm fine," Zayn squeezes Harry's hand to reassure both of them that he is alright.  
Harry gives Zayn one last kiss, quick onto his forehead, then turns back to sit more comfortably in his chair. He closes his eyes, his hand remaining in Zayn’s. Harry squeezes Zayn's hand one more time and it's the last thing Zayn remembers before he closes his eyes, hoping for sleep to takeover. 

When they touchdown, they try to rush out of the airport but it's surrounded by fans and reporters. He can hear the crowd as he gets closer and closer to the exit. The sounds are all mashed together, just screaming and cameras flashing. Sean is leading a huddle of security guards around him and Harry. He knows the drill; just keep moving forward with his head down. Don't give them a reason to start something because it will only reflect badly on him. So he keeps his head down but he can feel Harry grab onto his shirt. He turns to see Harry looking terrified, the crowd of people inching closer and closer towards them and Harry's back is exposed for anyone to reach out and grab him. Zayn grabs Harry's hand to switch positions with Harry, moving him closer to the front of the huddle. Harry looks lost as everything is happening so Zayn discreetly squeezes his hand to reassure him. He tries to distance himself a bit from Harry because there are too many cameras flashing and Harry's name would be blasted all over the world for everyone to know every detail about him.  
They survive the madness, barely, with people still trying to reach for Zayn, asking him personal questions hoping to get a raise out of him. They finally make it out of the airport in one piece. 

~*~

It's the night of the opening show and Zayn can feel the nervousness settling in. He tries singing bits of different songs to calm down because the first show is always the most important. It sets the tone for the rest of the tour. There are a crowd of people that have waited months to see him and he doesn't want to disappoint them. He knows there are critics among the crowd, ready to rip him apart and he has to prove them wrong. 

As he walks closer and closer towards the stage, he feels the adrenaline pumping back into his blood. He becomes more and more focused, the nervousness turning into excitement. It's different this time though; he's not making this walk alone. His team is around him, giving him his in-ears and Harry is right next to him, just observing everything coming together. He has seen this a million times before but it still amazes him. He looks at Zayn, his expression unreadable. He looks focused, but he can see beads of sweat rolling off the side of his face. He's nervous. Harry moves to stand in front of him, taking his in-ears out to look at him. He smiles down at Zayn, who smiles back, confused. 

"Remember I'm going to be right in the front, okay? Just look for me, alright? I'll be the loudest in the crowd. I'm right in the front." Harry receives a smile in return, but Zayn doesn't respond. He hardly talks before a performance, saving his voice for the show. Before he leaves, Harry gives Zayn a quick kiss and someone pulls Zayn away towards the stage. 

The lights are dim when Zayn enters the stage. The music starts and the lights let up. Zayn raises his head to look into the crowd where the light hits, to see the faces screaming his name. He looks down to see a boy with a dimpled smile and long curly hair, smiling up at him. Zayn smiles back as the boy cups his mouth to yell out Zayn’s name. 

Zayn smiles wider at him and begins signing. It’s like him and Harry are the only two in the whole room. He doesn't take his eyes off Harry as he sings his first song.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. This is my first fic, so any comments, even if you absolutely hated it, will much appreciated. Thanks for reading! xoxo (PS Hit me up on tumblr: latenightswhispers.tumblr.com)


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